


Shotgun

by ElfyDwarf



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Emotional, Fix-It, Fluffy, Gun Violence, M/M, S5E12, Strong Language, a lot of emotion, sappy boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfyDwarf/pseuds/ElfyDwarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, you know how Ian broke Mickey into bits and Sammi rolled up and wrecked it some more? Yeah, i didn't like it, and this idea has pestered me endlessly until i patched up the wreckage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> Don't really know what attempt I've made, and I fear i made Mickey a little OOC, but not really though. Being drained and exhausted does fuck with your mouth and head so, bare that in mind. It's just something i needed to write. I might add another chapter of just smut, cos damn i havent done it yet with these two, what's wrong with me?! explaining the open chapter 2 thing. anyway, mistakes are mine, not owned, nothing gained, yadda yeehah, enjoy. I hope :)

“Mickey? Mickey!”

 

Even with his name being screeched at him from his right, it took an extreme burst of will to turn his head and take his eyes off of Ian's face because, for a moment, he looked as though he was going to say something else. Possibly more hurtful things, a spiel about how it was him, not Mickey, how it was for the best... or maybe he wasn't, and he was suddenly rethinking himself for seeing how broken Mickey was. He knew he was blatantly showing his feelings, but fuck if he couldn't stop himself; it was like a punch in the face, and yes, he was going to bleed it out for Ian to see.

 

“Holy shit,” he drew the words out because there was no way in hell Sammi was wandering towards him like some ghetto drug lord, owning the street in her tatty jumper and frazzled hair. No way.

 

“Is that Sammi?”

 

“Mickey!” Sammi spat on the ground and Mickey suddenly felt a little thrown by it all. One second he's falling into a stomach tearing world of hurt, and the next, the bitch who pretty much caused this bullshit was strolling towards him with a weapon.

 

“She's got a _fucking gun_!” he could see Ian twitching, unsure of what to do, or what on earth was going on, but all Mickey could think of was how vulnerable he was without anything on him; no gun, no knife, no brass knuckles. More importantly to him though, as she raised the gun, was Ian. Regardless of what he had just thrown at him, he swore to himself that there was no way in hell he was going to let Sammi take him away a second time, no matter what the outcome of this 'talk' was, she wasn't doing that again.

 

“Bitch, step the _fuck_ back!” he spat, shifting away from the gate so her aim was further from Ian even as he shuffled to the steps and slowly went backwards up them. Sammi fired the gun anyway, and at Ian; whether her aim was shockingly poor, or if the gun was more powerful than she estimated, Mickey wasn't sure, but she shot the porch of the house next door. Mickey ducked and Ian flattened himself to the steps, his eyes huge as he glanced from Sammi to Mickey with extreme confusion and utter fear warring all over his face.

 

“Ooops, nearly shot the nutcase,” Sammi whispered dramatically and Mickey stepped forward while she giggled, bending to rest her hands on her knees.

 

“ _Move_ , Ian!” he shouted when she eyed Ian some more as he scrambled up off the steps and bolted through the front door, she fired at him anyway, through the window. Her aim was shit and Mickey felt a little thankful for that, but most of all, he felt real fucking angry. Three piss poor shots. At Ian. Mickey saw red.

 

“Fuck you!” he yelled, stepping straight for her and she raised the gun, so he danced around her, swinging his arms in an attempt to knock it from her nasty fingers so he could get it and shoot the bitch in the ass. That shit hurts, tried and tested.

 

“ _Oh_ , you're gonna get fucked!” she screeched, trying to dodge him whilst simultaneously trying to get a good enough aim to shoot him at close range. She fired and missed his foot; too close for comfort, so Mickey took off running.

 

“Fuck you, motherfucker!” he jumped whatever the hell was in his way and ran, checking to make sure Sammi was following him and she was, gun trained on the back of his head, though he knew, or rather, prayed, that she really was a fucking failure when it came to hitting the mark.

 

“You tried to fucking _kill_ me!”

 

“You're the one who said family sucked ass, you stupid bitch. No fucker insults _my_ family!” he called over his shoulder, careful to dodge a trashcan, “You sent Ian to fucking prison! You _took him_ away from me!” Mickey roared and stopped dead in his rage, no longer scared of if she would hit him, and Sammi, it was clear as she skidded and tripped over her feet, wasn't expecting him to do that. She hit the floor face first and fumbled with the gun as Mickey heaved deep breaths into his raw lungs, advancing on her quickly as she shuffled ridiculously on the ground. His blood was boiling and he wondered, with the distance between him and her, and where the gun was by her side in the dirt, if he could move quick enough. Her rolling and wailing said no, so he opted to just explode anyway; if he was going to die, why not get the hurt from the last few weeks out, and if it scared her enough to put her focus off, well that would be fucking peachy.

 

“ _Ow_ , son of a bitch!”

 

“You honestly thought none of us would try to get revenge on your dumb ass for what you did? If I wanted you dead, you'd be fuckin' dead, hear me? What I _wanted_ was to strap to you a chair while Debbie shocked your cunt with a car battery. The fuck you think we'd do? _I'd_ do, even, when you sent the only fuckin' person I have ever felt anything for, would do anything for, to some fucked up prison where I wouldn't get to _touch him again_ for fuck knows how long. The fuck you think someone in love is gonna do, huh? It's a dangerous fuckin' emotion to be messing with bitch! I don't hit girls, but fuck if I wanna kick your _fuckin' teeth_ in-” he swung his foot to try and kick the gun away, but his luck was shitty today and Sammi got it first and rolled up on to her knees, a little scruffed up, but still pissed and even more sure of herself now that he'd screamed himself raw at her.

 

“Shut the hell up, asswipe! The hell do I care about how some piece of shit like you feels? Your crazy, bat shit ginger is part of the family that sent my baby to juvie, asshole, so excuse me if I cut a nerve by levelling the field a bit-”

 

He took a step towards her, growling through his teeth, “He's a weird-ass little fuck, that chubby bastard-”

 

“Don't fucking move!” again, the gun was trained on him, but the sound of a door banging open and the safety clicking off another gun drew her attention from Mickey, who, as she turned to look, moved a little to his left so that if the dumb fuck actually shot at him without looking, he'd be missed by miles. Mickey swallowed as he looked to see who had joined the party and hoped to God it was someone on his side, even just a little.

 

“Put the gun _down_ before I spread your traitorous ass across my fuckin' lawn,” Ian bit through his teeth, cocking the shotgun for good measure from where he stood by his back door, aim perfectly steady and on Sammi. “ _Drop_. The fucking. Gun.”

 

“Think you scare me? You're so fucked up in the head right that I'd bet you're not even sure about what you're seeing-”

 

“Bitch, those teeth are comin' out,” Mickey warned as Ian fired the gun, leaving a hole in the grass not a foot from Sammi's screaming face. Mickey froze in place, too stunned to move. Holy shit.

 

“I _said_ drop the fucking gun, dumbass.” Ian seethed, his face emotionless as Fiona came hurtling around the house with Veronica in tow, bats at the ready. “You think I won't do it? I just blew a goddamn hole in the ground and I'll blow the next through your back if you fucking _breathe_ in his direction.”

 

“Jesus, fuck Ian! Murder charges for fuck sake!” she cried.

 

“ _Shit_. Bitch, what you think you're doin', huh? Shooting at Mickey... don't you know shooting at someone's boyfriend is a little risky, especially after all the bullshit they've gone through? She got a death wish?” Vee laughed, nudging Fiona with her hip while Mickey inched around Sammi, her attention completely taken by the other three, more so the shotgun in the hands of an unstable, and yet very passionate, protective Ian Gallagher. Sammi seemed to be shaking, and he felt himself grinning. Served the bitch right.

 

“I may be a little fucked up right now, but knowing how to fire a gun is not part of that, so, third time lucky Sammi,” Ian cocked the shotgun, “Drop it.”

 

Fiona raised an eyebrow and put her bat on her shoulder, “I'd do as he says. You're kinda steppin' on our turf here, and shooting at one of our own. If he doesn't shoot you, I'll more than happily bust in your knees while Mickey takes your teeth out, and Debbie, well, she still has the car battery.”

 

“Your choice,” Vee said flippantly, and as Sammi glared at them, Mickey pushed her flat on her front with a foot in the middle of her back, sat on her thighs and pinned her head down with a strong hand on her neck and used the other to bash hers until she let go of the gun.

 

“Or not,” he smiled, leaning down to her ear while Fiona jogged over and kicked the gun out of reach. “Think family sucks ass now?”

 

“Police are on the way. Markovich, so, you know, you're not getting' away with this with just a slapped wrist. Sit tight there, Mickey,” Fiona winked and turned back to the house, rubbing Ian's arm as she and Vee went back inside through the back door. Ian still hadn't lowered the shotgun, watching Sammi screaming into the dirt while Mickey enjoyed letting all of his weight drop into his ass.

 

“You can put that shit away now, cops won't like it.”

 

“Not until she's no longer a threat,” Ian replied confidently and Mickey rolled his eyes.

 

“She look like a threat right now?”

 

“The bitch shot at you Mick, I ain't dropping my aim until she's in the back of a wagon,” Ian sounded a little distressed as he spoke and Mickey had to force himself to stay seated, the urge to touch the redhead testing him. “You know, I heard you screaming at her. 'S it true?”

 

Mickey clenched his teeth as Sammi sunk her teeth into his wrist, “Bite all you want 'cause as soon as you're behind bars, I know some bitches who would gladly take those pearls outta your fuckin' head for me. I'm a man of my word, and people don't forget you when you hold to it. Keep bitin' bitch, get a good memory for when you're sucking smashed up jail shit through a straw 'cause this ain't nothin' compared to what I've had before, trust me, I got a bullet hole in my ass.”

 

“Mickey?” Ian's voice was low, but the curiosity was loud, and even over the wailing of the approaching sirens, Mickey heard him.

 

“Tell you over a smoke once this fucks gone, Okay?” he said softly and gave Ian a reassuring smile, or so he hoped, he was still getting munched on by batty Betty. “Put that fuckin' gun away, please?” he begged and Ian gave a nod, hiding the shotgun as the cruiser pulled up.

 

“You ever think of becoming a police officer, Mickey?” Markovich teased as he hopped out the car, “Is she _biting_ you?”

 

“Look, less chit chat, more arresting and removing,” Mickey griped, hauling himself up once the other officer had a good grip on Sammi, cuffing her and dragging her off with the usual _'you're under arrest'_ bullshit. Markovich took the gun from Ian when he appeared with it in a rag, standing close to Mickey while he stared holes into the cruiser now Sammi was in the back. “Had enough of her shit already, I just wanna sit the fuck down and smoke right now, that good with you?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Fiona explained. You'll need to come in later to fill out some forms and have a statement taken. You know the drill, well, from the other end this time.”

 

“Yeah, cool, be down in like, an hour or somethin',” Mickey hoped he sounded cocky because he sure as shit felt like his legs were going to go from underneath him now he wasn't running on adrenaline and anger. Markovich gave a nod and got in the car, driving off while Ian flipped Sammi the bird, holding steady until the cruiser was out of sight. Mickey smiled to himself and moved to sit against the side of the house, letting his knees buckle and his hands shake.

 

“Hey,” Ian mumbled, standing close with his hands in his pockets, “You Okay?”

 

“Are _you_?” Mickey dodged, knowing he looked exactly how he felt; like terrified shit. It took him effort to fish a pack of smokes from his coat pocket and his shaking fingers wouldn't allow him to light the thing so he cursed it out under his breath.

 

“She shot at you Mick-”

 

“Fuckin' shot at you first. God _damn_ this shitty fuckin' piece of-” he threw the lighter on the floor and growled for good measure, his entire body deflating into nothing more than misery and exhaustion. Ian was sitting beside him in a flash, flush from thigh to shoulder, and watching Mickey as he tried to defiantly look anywhere but at Ian, fighting the emotion beating him down.

 

“Hey? Hey, Mick, you're safe now,” Ian soothed when he realised that Mickey was staring off in the other direction, his body jumping every now and then, because he was crying. Mickey hated crying. It was stupid and useless and a mess, but right now, he felt stupid, useless and messy.

 

“It's not that.”

 

“Man, you just got shot at, chased-”

 

“It's not that!” Mickey snapped, whipping his head around to stare at Ian, “She took you away from me, Ian. She tried to shoot you, fucking _shoot you_ , right in front of me! You want to leave me, again, she tried to take you, again, and then I thought you were gonna fuckin' let her shoot me 'cause you didn't give a shit any more and then you pop up with a _shotgun_ and protect me from her and... Jesus, my head's all over the goddamn place right now and my heart fuckin' hurts and I want a smoke but fuck, I can't stop shaking and I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do now! What to think. The fuck!” he hissed through his teeth and stuffed his head in his hands 'cause fuck it all, seriously.

 

Ian sniffed and fished around in his pockets for a minute, leaving Mickey to sob, knowing he needed it and had more right to do it than anyone else. When Mickey scrubbed at his face and spat on the ground, Ian handed him his smoke back and lit it.

 

“You meant what you screamed?”

 

Mickey inhaled and thumped his head back, “Yeah. Don't lie, you know that, especially not to you.”

 

Ian bobbed his head, picking at the grass sticking out from under his ass, “You know, I thought, in my messed up head, that I meant what I was doing before Sammi rocked up. I'm a mess, Mick, and you don't need it. I want you happy, I want you safe and loved. I thought if I pushed you away, you'd maybe understand and go live your life.”

 

Mickey closed his eyes and held the cigarette out, fending off more crying. He was too tired to do that shit some more, too tired to get up and walk away so he didn't have to hear this, too tired to fight Ian and get him to shut his fat fucking mouth. Even if this was going to hurt, kill him, Mickey was going to hear him out because if anything, he was owed an explanation and, if he was honest, he'd missed Ian's voice like air and he wanted to listen to him speaking if this was going to be it.

 

“But then I saw, even after I'd cut you open and saw your face, _fuck_ , your face Mick... I saw, I watched you move yourself so she would aim at you and not me. You were gonna take a bullet for me, _again_. So, it didn't work, but you still put yourself there, in the way, so I wouldn't get hurt, even after I'd hurt you, and not just today. When I got in the house, I quickly told Fiona and got the bat, because like hell I was going to let her try and hurt you. Then I heard you yelling at her, screaming at her, and you know, after all these weeks of feeling pretty much nothing, I felt something hit me in the chest like... I can't describe it Mickey, it was strong and instant and raw and I knew I'd made a huge fucking error with my fat ass mouth. I had no idea about anything, about you, what you'd been doing, what I'd put you through, what you'd been through because of me. I also knew that if anything happened to you, I'd fall apart so, I had to do something other than warn her off this house. Found the shotgun and seriously Mick, seeing her aim it right at you, _you_ , the one person who's had my back and not pushed, pressured, lied, coddled or tip-toed the fuck around me, just looked out for me like always, no. No, she wasn't doing that. Had to stop her Mick, because I needed you to not get shot so I could take back the meaning behind my verbal vomit and say I'm so fucking sorry Mickey, so sorry for hurting you. I never meant to.”

 

“Don't apologise, nothing to be sorry for. Not like you can control this shit, is it? Not like I open my mouth enough for you to understand, feelings and all that, not my thing, and all my face knows is 'angry',” Mickey muttered, calming down enough to light another cigarette. “But I'll accept it anyways, 'cause it means somethin' to you. Don't matter what happens now, I'll always have your back Ian, you're my family, no matter what.”

 

“I don't want anything to happen Mickey,” Ian reached for the cigarette, “Take back what I said, forget I decided you'd be better off-”

 

“Damn right, 'cause that's not for you to fuckin' decide. I didn't bail before, or in the clinic, or when you fuckin' left me without a word, I ain't gonna do it now and I sure as shit don't see me wanting to do it in the near future. Dunno if you noticed, Gallagher, but I'm in this with you. I told you,” Mickey nudged him with his knee, looking up at the house at a weird angle, “I love you. Ever heard me say that to anyone else? It's serious shit coming from me... no lie, no faking it, no backing out. It means I'm yours, even if you leave my ass, it's not gonna go anywhere.”

 

Ian bit his lip, “I can't cope with who I am, but when you're there, I feel like I can. There's a light in my darkness-”

 

“Fucking sap!”

 

“- and it's only there when you're around. I can do this, with you. I'm a mess, I know, and I'm bound to fuck up somewhere, but I can't do this without you. I don't know why I thought, for a damn second, that I could. I blame Monica, she knows how to play me, put ideas in my head, lies turning to truths, even worse knowing it'll fester with this BiPolar shit because I'm spineless.”

 

Mickey pulled his eyes down to look at Ian when his voice grew quiet and knocked his knee again, “Hey, less of that self loathing crap. That's my game, not yours. I'm here, you see me? Always here. Man, you could leave my ass in fucking Mexico and I'd be back on yours within a week. Can't be without you man, I mean it, you're like some drug or somethin'. Don't fuckin' leave me like that again, and hey, don't push me away because you think I'm goin' fuckin' soft alright? This is hard for me too, and to be honest man, all I was showing you was how much I cared. Kinda came outta left-field I guess, me not showing you before and shit. This is me, loving-” he shifted so he could hook Ian's chin and lift his gaze up, thumbing his bottom lip because he could, “-You.”

 

“Who's the sap again?”

 

“Fuck you,” Mickey sighed, trying not to smile. “You're real important to me, assface,” he grumbled and Ian huffed a laugh, flushing and grinning. He knocked his knee back.

 

“Know what? There's something I've been meaning to give you and say to you actually, kind of forgot and was kind of too far away and being a selfish dick to do it, but here,” Ian smiled, pushing Mickey's hand out of the way to lean forward and kiss him, Mickey ready for it, waiting for it, aching for it. It wasn't heated, or hard, or demanding, or bursting with the need to show him how much he's missed him or anything, but soft, reassuring, full of promises and I'm Sorry. When he pulled back, Ian touched their foreheads together, grounding himself a little with a hand on Mickey's thigh.

 

“I love you.”

 

“Know what?” Mickey whispered, smiling with a tired look about him, “You've never said that to me before.”

 

“I know. I should have.”

 

“No,” Mickey sighed, “Wouldn't have listened. I hear you now though and I'm kinda hoping I hear it again. Hey, I wanna make a request.”

 

Ian chuckled but they didn't part, “Hmm, what's that?”

 

“Get your lanky ass up and take me to bed. Show me that you love me 'cause you know I gotta see to believe, I'm all for pictures or it ain't real. Then you let me nap 'cause I'm exhausted, and then-” Mickey moved back and smacked Ian hard across the shoulder, “I'm gonna beat your ass for firing a fuckin' shotgun within two feet of me, asshole, gave me fuckin' heart attack!”

 

“Fuck, Jesus, alright princess,” Ian ducked the swat aimed at his head and kissed the curses back down Mickey's throat, tugging him close until he was able to sit in Ian's lap and nuzzle into his neck for the first time in weeks. “'S get you to bed, sleepyface.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> .....so. yeah. it had to be done. *shrugs*


End file.
